


Party

by orphan_account



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doofenshmirtz went to the party to destroy it. Perry went to the party to save it. But neither expected to share a comfortable, enjoyable evening together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party

Perry loathed his tuxedo.

Everything about it irked him. He hated it. Even the thought of wearing it made his fur stand on end.

It wasn't really the tuxedo's fault, Perry had to admit. But that was as much as he would say about it.

One matter was that Major Monogram had underestimated Perry's size. This particularly offended Perry and reminded him that perhaps eating a slice of Mom's homemade pie every day was not as beneficial to his waist as it was to his mood.

Additionally, the sleeves were too short. When Perry rolled them and clipped on the plastic cufflinks, his wrists dangled from the sleeves. He attempted to hide this awkwardness by tucking his paws into his pockets, but Major Monogram deemed this "slouchy" and swiftly terminated any further behavior of the sort.

And the sleeves were the least of Perry's troubles. The more he thought about it, the more things he found that he hated about the suit.

The collar was too tight. His necktie always came undone. The buttons parading up and down the front of his blouse were ridiculously tiny and difficult to fasten using paws. The double-breasted black coat––amusingly fancy––was heavy and stifling and rubbed his fur in uncomfortable directions.

Perry thought he had slipped by Major Monogram, but once again, the major proved himself worthy of his title.

"Agent P," he had said sternly, "you can't go a dinner like that. Put on a suit, or I'm blocking access to your car. You wouldn't want to _walk_ downtown, would you?"

Perry still could barely believe that Major Monogram would threaten him in such a way. He looked pitifully at the shiny, well-maintained hovercraft––he loved that car. Only to keep his privilege of riding it would he wear the wretched tuxedo.

Perry glared at his reflection in the mirror. Two cold, angry eyes returned the glare. Perry huffed and bopped back the brim of his fedora. Worn and battered, the fedora fiercely contended with the clean primness of Perry's outfit.

He refused to exchange his fedora for a newer hat. If he traded it in for a shiny black fedora, the one with the white faux-leather band, he wouldn't feel like himself. His old fedora was _his,_ and that was that.

With a weary sigh, Perry adjusted his tie, jerking the fragile knot tight. One side of the bow drooped. Perry muttered and fixed it. The other side drooped. Perry lifted his paws in utter exasperation and retied the knot once more. It stayed in place.

Satisfied, Perry licked his thumb and straightened his whiskers. Though he absolutely detested wearing the suit, he would fake nonchalance over the issue, as agents must. At least he had managed to avoid wearing pants.

* * *

 

The celebratory banquet had already begun when Perry trotted in. Few people paid him any attention, but he preferred dull reactions to startled or unnerved ones.

He weaved his way between rows and rows of legs, dodging spiked heels from every angle. Heavy oxfords presented a threat, as well. Did no one watch where he was going? Admittedly, he was rather short and difficult to see in a crowd, but he would have appreciated even a curt "pardon."

He indignantly smoothed down his jacket lapels and continued pressing through the milling swamp of people. The mingled stench of perfume and turkey sandwiches filled the air, and the occasional throngs of laughter somehow made it worse.

Perry stood on tiptoe and peered through the crowd. A worried frown darkened his eyes. Had Major Monogram given him the wrong information? Maybe Doofenshmirtz was attending another banquet. Danville was constantly buzzing with events and parties.

Just as Perry turned to leave in a ruffled huff, a large hand dropped to his shoulder. He stiffened, caught himself, and shrugged off the hand before spinning around.

"Hey, Perry the Platypus," Doofenshmirtz said. He grinned. "You seem mad; what's wrong?"

Perry hissed through his clenched teeth and folded his arms over his chest. The neatly folded handkerchief in his pocket rustled.

"Ooh!" Doofenshmirtz bent down, poking his bony finger against Perry's chest. "Look at _you._ Aren't you all dolled up for the occ _a_ sion! Is this real silk?"

Scowling, Perry shoved Doofenshmirtz's hand away.

"Not real, huh? Well, it's still nice. You look good, by the way. What is the cool kids call it now––hot? You look hot, Perry the Platypus."

Perry blinked. He glanced around self-consciously before intensifying his scowl.

"Hey," Doofenshmirtz said. He pointed. "See that wall over there? In about fifteen minutes, a massive -inator is going to plunge right through the drywall and _blow_ this pop-stand."

Sighing, Perry pressed his palm against his forehead.

"Don't give me that. You know how I am about _par_ ties. They stink. They stink because I'm hardly ever invited. And the thing about these _ban_ quets is that Roger hosts them. These are the only shindigs I get invited to, and, boy, does it make me _an_ gry!"

Perry lowered his paw to cover his eyes and shook his head.

"Well, gee, Perry the Platypus, how would _you_ feel if you knew the only reason you got an invitation was for spite?"

Perry forced a smile. His cheeks hurt.

"Oh, no. Nuh-uh. Don't give me that. You'd be moping around, too."

He relented. He held up a paw and pinched his fingers together.

"Ha! Yeah, right." Doofenshmirtz suddenly looked distracted. He glanced at the far wall. "How long have we been st _and_ ing here?"

Nonchalantly, Perry shrugged.

"Oh, fine, I––hey, you lied! You have a watch. Right there, right there." Doofenshmirtz knelt and grabbed Perry's arm. He pulled down the sleeve of Perry's coat, squinting at the tiny watch.

"Around... a minute. Well, how do you like that?" He carefully adjusted Perry's cuff, swiping away the wrinkles. "We'll still be here for a while before anything _in_ teresting happens. Hey, would you like to get something to eat?"

A few people were crowded around the tables. Most had already gathered their plates and found a seat. Reluctantly, Perry nodded and followed Doofenshmirtz to the table.

"Ooh. Look at this. No, over here. They have shrimp. They're all in this little _gar_ den of lettuce and carrots. That's cute. Of course, it's not something I would fix; I'm more of a desserts guy, myself. Would you like some shrimp, Perry the Platypus?"

Perry muttered and finally stuck out his paw.

Doofenshmirtz laughed. "Really? Is this a joke? You don't just go grabbing stuff off the platters, even if you want just one little thing. Even _I_ know that. Get a bowl or a napkin or something. Oh––you're not tall enough to reach them, are you? Never mind. Here, take mine."

He pushed his plate into Perry's arms and got another for himself. He busily began scooping food from pans and bowls, plopping masses of various unidentifiable slimes onto his plate. Perry politely refused everything except, Doofenshmirtz noted, expensive seafood.

They found a small table shoved into the corner. Doofenshmirtz briskly claimed it.

"It's in the perfect spot," he said. "This way we can see all of the b _eau_ tiful chaos when the wall explodes."

Perry worriedly stared at the wall while Doofenshmirtz pulled out a chair for him. He slowly climbed up, plunking his plate down on the table in a way that said clearly, "This only lasts until duty calls."

"Sit tight, okay?" said Doofenshmirtz, holding up in his hands in a calming gesture. "I'm going to get us something to drink. And no, don't even try convincing me to get you a soda. We all know what happens when you get sugar in your system."

Perry scowled at Doofenshmirtz's retreating back and hunched over his plate, picking at the iced shrimp. He gingerly pinched a shrimp by its papery tail and held it up, wondering how it looked when it was alive and scuttling over the ocean floor. Strangely, he didn't care. He twisted the fat shrimp in half and carefully placed both pieces on the rim of his plate.

A glass clapped down on the table in front of him. The water sloshed, and a flurry of bubbles shot to the surface in a hissing foam. Perry's eyes widened.

"Seltzer water," Doofenshmirtz said. "I thought that would be more be _fit_ ting of the occ _a_ sion than plain old everyday water. Is that okay?"

At home, Perry never received this sort of treat. His family adored him, of course, but never thought of giving him the delicacies reserved for humans. Even Perry's own creative boys––the ones who crafted anti-gravity machines and elevators to the moon––couldn't completely picture their platypus dressed smartly in a tuxedo with the delicate stem of a glass held in his paw.

Doofenshmirtz sat heavily, pushing his own glass of seltzer water to the side of his plate. He unfolded the linen napkin, removed the polished silverware, and painstakingly arranged the two spoons, two forks, and knife in a perfectly aligned row.

"Check this out," he said, holding up the napkin. "Fancy. Hey, why aren't you eating?"

Perry winced and gingerly touched his fingers to his forehead, as if Doofenshmirtz's constant nagging gave him a headache.

"You better finish your food, Perry the Platypus. It's plain and simple social etiquette to clean your plate. If you don't want it all, we can share. Here, let me scoot over there. We can pick off one plate. You don't mind, do you?"

Halfheartedly, Perry waved.

Doofenshmirtz dragged his chair beside Perry's. Perry discreetly leaned away.

"Oh, come on." Doofenshmirtz teasingly flipped back the brim of Perry's fedora, and Perry drew back in disbelief. He readjusted his fedora and swatted Doofenshmirtz's hand. Doofenshmirtz laughed in appreciation, hovering his fork over the plate.

"Don't get yourself all worked up, Perry the Platypus. Let's enjoy the party!" He energetically speared a shrimp, and Perry, with much less enthusiasm, snagged a crumb of fish.

As Perry grew more comfortable, he found himself almost enjoying Doofenshmirtz's company. Doofenshmirtz mentioned nothing more about any "evil" intentions, and began jerking the conversation toward any subject he thought would interest Perry. Inevitably, his ideas of Perry's interests were extremely warped, but nonetheless Perry enjoyed the chatter.

"You should have seen the mess in my room, Perry the Platypus. While I was at the drugstore, Norm _some_ how got in and started tearing open my drawers. My stuff was everywhere, I kid you not. I asked him, _why_ would he do something like that? And you know what he said? He said he was looking for my 'secret diary.' He said _every_ one has a diary. I didn't necessarily tell him he was _wrong,_ you know. I told him he'd been watching too many movies.

"Hey, speaking of movies, did you watch the two-hour season finale of _El Matador Amor_? Don't tell me––you missed it? Carlita finally told Juan that she can't marry him. It was a heart-breaker, Perry the Platypus. A real heart-beaker. Ooh, I just got an idea! Would you like to come over this evening? I recorded the episode just in case you had missed it. We can watch it together."

Perry's will wavered at the thought of a relaxing evening curled on Doofenshmirtz's sofa. He nodded in agreement and, to hide his smile, raised the glass of sparkling water to his bill. Crackling fizz tickled his whiskers and sent little sparks down to the roots.

" _Kertyschoo!"_ The sneeze shot out before he could stifle it. His fedora fell over his eyes and the ends of his tie flopped loose from the knot, dangling limply. His shoulders tight, Perry froze, blinked, and sent Doofenshmirtz a horrified sidelong stare.

Doofenshmirtz watched, looking amused. "Wow. That was really, really undignified. Totally unexpected for a stuffy stick-in-the-mud like you. Gee, Perry the Platypus, did you _have_ to do that all over our food?"

Perry turned away haughtily, yanking his tie back into a neat bow. However, even he began to smile, and when Doofenshmirtz slumped, his shoulders shaking with smothered chuckles, Perry covered his eyes with his paws and laughed.

"You're a funny guy, you know?" Doofenshmirtz said with a grin. He gave Perry a goodnatured poke in his ribs. "Okay, okay. I'll forgive you for getting _spit_ all over the table. Just this once, though. You can imagine how many times I've had to say that in my life."

Doofenshmirtz opened his mouth to say something else, and at that instant, a tremor washed through the room and made the floor and ceiling tremble. The chandeliers swayed wildly and the lights flickered. Chunks of plaster rained over the heads of cowering party-goers.

Doofenshmirtz shot upright, his characteristic slouch suddenly nonexistent. He gazed at the far wall, and Perry twisted to look over the back of his chair.

In the center of the wall, a miniscule crack webbed over the paint. It erratically spanned to the ceiling, every branching crack growing deeper. Just when the wall began to crumble, a hulking machine with groaning gears and sizzling circuits plunged into the room. Its tires churned crumbs of drywall and plaster, sending the flecks out in a dusty spray. The -inator plowed into a table, grinding it beneath its tires, and wheezed to a halt.

Screams blended with the rattling of the -inator's motor. Perry swerved an accusing glare toward Doofenshmirtz before scrambling to balance on the chair's headrest. Hastily, he jerked loose the buttons on the front of his coat and shrugged out of it, letting it fall to a heap on the floor. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows and tightened his fists, already planning to disarm the -inator in a way that allotted the fewest possible damages.

When he crouched, ready to pounce, a hand clutched the back of his shirt to hold him still. Perry snarled, and Doofenshmirtz quickly released his grip and raised his hands defensively.

"Don't go, Perry the Platypus. Stay here!" His voice rose to a pitch that suspiciously resembled a whine. "We were having such a good time. Why eat and run?"

In disbelief, Perry pointed at the enormous -inator.

"Oh, _that_ thing?" said Doofenshmirtz, sounding disgusting by Perry's concern. "That was a––a _joke,_ Perry the Platypus. Here, let me show you."

He scrunched his face into a parody of concentration and jammed his hand into his pocket, fishing around persistently. He brightened and withdrew a control pad on which were two buttons, labeled "power" and "self-destruct." He tapped the button, and the machine grumbled before falling still. The calm that followed seemed eerie.

The people who had been screeching in terror the moment before now gazed at Doofenshmirtz and Perry in a post-crisis stupor.

Doofenshmirtz rolled his eyes. "Come _on,_ people. So it was a minor setback. Get over it. Return to your meals and conversations, please... Yes, that's it. Go on."

Gradually, the hushed small voices regained confidence and returned to a droning buzz that was frequently scratched by nervous laughter.

Doofenshmirtz bent down to retrieve Perry's jacket, dusting off the bits of plaster. He handed it to Perry, who snatched it away vehemently. Perry wriggled into it, fussed with the buttons, and, once satisfied, returned his attention to Doofenshmirtz. With his expression one of disapproval, he gestured frantically, explaining his anger at such a foolish stunt.

A lazy grin maneuvered across Doofenshmirtz's mouth. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

"I know this is a, uh, stupid question, but do you think we could, oh, I don't know––pick up where we left off earlier?"

Perry smacked his forehead in exasperation. Doofenshmirtz hadn't listened to his admonishment. What else had Perry expected?

"Because this has been really nice, you know," Doofenshmirtz continued. "And we have some terrific food left; all we have to do is pick out the pieces of ceiling. Look, I'm sorry about that -i _na_ tor business, Perry the Platypus. I wanted to crash the party for everyone else, but I didn't think _I'd_ actually have a good time. You've had fun, too, right?"

His face betrayed such concern and hope that Perry sighed. In spite of his frustration, he nodded.

Doofenshmirtz beamed. Now certain that Perry forgave him, he felt free to ask a slightly more sensitive question.

"Do you think that, uh, you could, maybe, take your coat off? I don't mean anything _by_ it, so don't look at me like that. I'm just saying, you look a lot more _comfy_ without that jacket. More at-ease, you get it? And come on, it's just us. Do you think I like watching you when you wiggle around like you're sitting on an iron or something?"

Perry considered this. Glancing around, he slowly unbuttoned his coat, folded it, and lay it on the arm of the chair. All at once he felt lighter and cooler and overall less _squeezed._ Gratefully he slid his paws down his sides, smoothing down his ruffled fur beneath his silk shirt.

"Anyways," said Doofenshmirtz, "what was I talking about earlier? Oh, right. As I was saying, Carlita and Juan..."

Perry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, lifted his head and managed a smile.

He was having a good time.


End file.
